


The Promise

by alanna_the_lionheart



Series: I Keep My Promises [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Future Fic, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury, Married Olicity, One Shot, Pain, Torture, Violence, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:29:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4561149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanna_the_lionheart/pseuds/alanna_the_lionheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I keep my promises, kid.” Takes place about three years after the disastrous date of 3x01.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Promise

**Author's Note:**

> I. Am. So. Sorry. Friendly warning: this is a DARK ONE. Mildly graphic depictions of blood and violence.
> 
> It’s a follow-up (of sorts) to “No Going Back,” my 2x23 missing moment. You don’t have to read it to understand this, but they belong to the same ‘verse in my head.

**The Promise**

_“Oliver, I have something important to tell you. Will you meet me for dinner? Seven o’clock, at our favorite table?”_

Oliver recalls his earlier conversation with Felicity as he shuts the door behind him. He’s dressed in his best suit, and as he walks down the front pathway he hums to himself. He doesn’t even realize that he’s humming “their” song until he’s reached his car.

 

_I’ve got sunshine, on a cloudy day._

_When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May._

_I guess you’d say, what can make me feel this way?_

 

Oliver looks at his watch and smiles. It’s 6:30, and for once, he’s going to be on time. He’s eager to hear the news Felicity has to tell him. He could tell she was trying hard to hide her excitement over the phone, but he had heard it anyway.

 

Oliver climbs into his car and drives toward the restaurant; toward _their_ restaurant. It’s the same Italian restaurant they went to on their first date: the one that (quite literally) blew up in their faces.

 

When Oliver and Felicity had returned from their five month vacation away from Starling City – before Oliver had put on a hood once more – they’d wanted to try their luck at a second date there, only to find that the place had been abandoned. The restaurant had needed extensive repairs in the wake of the bombing, and it would have cost more money than the owner was willing to spend. But when Felicity had found herself the CEO of one Palmer Technologies, she’d also found herself the owner of a considerable amount of money, and with Oliver’s support, she’d offered to pay for the repairs herself.

 

Her generosity had earned her the owner’s eternal gratitude and her own private table whenever she wanted it.

 

It was there, at their table, that Oliver had proposed to her a little over a year ago.

 

It was there, at their table, that she’d said yes.

 

It was there, in that restaurant, where they’d had their wedding reception.

 

And it was there, at their table, that Felicity had told him she was finally rechristening Palmer Technologies as Queen, Inc.

 

Oliver had no idea what would happen at their table tonight, but it could only be something good.

 

Oliver pulls up to the restaurant and tosses the valet his keys. He doesn’t recognize the man, which is his first clue that something is off, because Tony only has three valets – the same valets he’s had since he reopened – and Oliver knows all of them by name.

 

“Good evening, Mr. Queen. Your wife’s already waiting for you inside.”

 

“Thank you, Mister….” Oliver trails off, waiting for the man to introduce himself, when suddenly he realizes something.

 

He can see the parking lot from where he stands, and Felicity’s car isn’t in it.

 

Oliver reaches for the secret stash of tranquilizer arrows he keeps on him at all times, but he never gets a chance to grab one.

 

A pair of strong arms wraps around him from behind and presses a cloth against his mouth.

 

Whatever the cloth is soaked with works fast, and Oliver barely has time to struggle before he falls unconscious.

 

* * *

 

Oliver wakes slowly, his vision swimming in front of him. His training kicks in, and he quickly assesses the situation.

 

He’s outside, lying on cold, wet grass and staring up at the night sky. He has no idea how long he’s been out. He sits up slowly, and the world tilts around him. Whatever was used to knock him out is still making him dizzy. He glances around, and as his vision starts to clear and the world stops spinning, he knows where he is. He recognizes the trees around him, the fountain off in the distance.

 

He’s in Star City Park.

 

He’s in the same spot where he watched Slade Wilson kill his mother.

 

And then Oliver’s heart starts racing as he hears a voice he never wanted to hear again.

 

“Rise and shine, kid.”

 

Oliver turns around, and he feels his blood run cold at the sight before him.

 

Slade Wilson stands ten feet away from him. He has his left arm wrapped tightly around Felicity’s chest….

 

And his right hand holds a sword against her stomach.

 

Oliver tries to stand, but between the aftereffects of the knockout drug and the terror he feels, he collapses.

 

Slade just laughs at him and stands there, waiting.

 

Oliver glares up at him, willing his body to cooperate.

 

“How did you get off the island?” Oliver asks when he finally finds the courage to speak.

 

Slade grins down at him. “Let’s just say that there’s someone out there who hates you almost as much as I do.”

 

Oliver has no idea who he’s talking about. It could be any number of people, or for all he knows it could be someone he’s never met. He doesn’t really care. He needs to keep Slade talking. He needs to come up with a plan.

 

Oliver looks back up and meets Felicity’s eyes. They communicate silently, and when Felicity nods just the slightest, Oliver knows she’s unhurt.

 

At least for now.

 

Seeing her gives him courage, and he climbs onto his knees, and then onto his feet. He can feel adrenaline start to kick in, and he feels his strength returning.

 

He takes a step toward Slade, but Slade takes a step back and presses the sword closer to her stomach, carefully slicing her dress but not breaking the skin.

 

“Don’t even try it. She’ll be dead before she hits the ground.”

 

Oliver flinches, and his heart is pounding hard in his chest.

 

“And don’t bother looking for any of those pesky tranquilizers, either,” Slade continues. “You have no weapons…and I have the woman you love.”

 

It’s all Oliver can do to keep from launching himself at Slade, because he knows the man’s right.

 

Slade has Felicity; he’s holding all the cards.

 

“Slade, let her go!” Oliver orders, even though he knows it won’t do any good.

 

Slade laughs at him. “It’s over, kid. There are no more choices to make. I’m going to kill her.”

 

Oliver bites the inside of his lip to keep from screaming. He bites so hard he can taste blood in his mouth.

 

Slade continues.

 

“But before I do, there’s something you need to hear.”

 

Oliver tries to think of way out of this, but he knows deep down that there’s nothing. Maybe if he humors Slade long enough….

 

“Do you know why she wanted to meet you tonight?” Slade asks, gazing down at Felicity.

 

The question throws him.

 

“I…what are you talking about?” Oliver asks in confusion. There has to be something he can do, he just needs time to think. He can’t let Slade kill her; he _won’t._

“Do you know _why_ she wanted to meet you for dinner tonight? Why she asked you back to that same restaurant where you almost got her killed three years ago?”

 

Oliver has no idea how Slade could possibly know any of this, and he doesn’t really care.

 

“ _Answer me, kid_ ,” Slade growls, and he slices into the fabric of Felicity’s dress once more, pressing deep enough with the sword to cut her. The sound of her gasp of pain, the sight of crimson blood against her red dress – the same dress she wore on their first date – is like a knife in Oliver’s own gut.

 

“No,” Oliver responds, his voice breaking slightly.

 

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you,” Slade retorts, and he presses the sword into her wound just the slightest, enough to make her bleed once more. Her blood drips down the sword and hits the ground. Felicity moans in pain, tears gathering in her eyes, and Oliver loses the last bit of control he has.

 

“NO!” he shouts. “God, NO, all right? I don’t know!”

 

He’s trembling now, shaking so badly he’s not sure how his legs are still holding him. His eyes meet hers, and he sees in them a terror that mirrors his own.

  
“Please…please, just…just let her go.”

 

He’s begging now, his voice hoarse from the tears he’s holding back, trying so hard to keep himself from falling apart at the seams.

 

Slade smiles at him, and it’s a smile so full of contempt that if looks could kill Oliver knows he’d fall dead at the man’s feet in an instant.

 

Then Slade buries his face against Felicity’s neck, breathing deeply, and she shudders in his grasp, turning her head away from him. Slade places a kiss against her cheek, and Oliver’s stomach twists in revulsion.

 

As Slade pulls away from her, grinning luridly at Oliver, Felicity turns without warning and spits in his face.

 

Slade stares at her, and Oliver can tell he’s surprised. If there was any time to act, it’s now, while Slade’s distracted, but he still has a sword against her stomach, and he would kill her easily before Oliver could make it two steps.

 

And so he can only stand there, fingers twitching, body humming with a need to _move_. He can only stand there uselessly as Slade calls her a bitch and presses the hilt of the sword against her wound.

 

She screams in agony, and Oliver shouts her name, taking a step closer on instinct. But Slade takes two steps back as he readjusts his grip on her, placing the blade back against her belly as she pants. She wavers in his arms, and Slade wraps his arms tighter around her chest to keep her standing.

 

“TELL HIM!” Slade shouts at her. “Tell him what he needs to know!”

 

Felicity whimpers, her gaze toward the ground, and she shakes her head.

 

“TELL HIM!” he shouts again, and he grips her harder with his left hand, his fingernails scratching down her right arm and across the top of her breasts, leaving trails of blood in their wake.

 

She moans, but she still doesn’t look up, doesn’t say a word.

 

Slade puts his face up close to her ear.

 

“Tell him…or I will,” he whispers.

 

Felicity goes still in Slade’s arms, and Oliver’s afraid she’s passed out. But then, finally, she stands up straight. She looks over at Oliver, her eyes meeting his, and Oliver would do _anything_ to keep that look out of her eyes forever.

 

Tears fall freely down her cheeks, and she bites her lip, as though she’s steeling herself.

 

“Oliver….” She whispers his name, so quietly he can barely hear her.

 

“I’m here,” he answers, trying his best to reassure her even as his voice breaks; even though his world is falling apart around him. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

 

“Oliver…I’m pregnant.”

 

The earth falls out from under Oliver’s feet. He doesn’t know what to say, or what to do. He can only stand there helplessly as Slade grins at him and says, “I keep my promises, kid.”

 

He knows what’s going to happen before it does, and there’s not a thing he can do to stop it.

 

And she knows it, too.

 

“Oliver, I lo-”

 

Felicity never gets to finish her sentence.

 

Slade loosens his hold on her just long enough to push her away, spin her toward him, and drive his sword through her stomach.

 

The scream that leaves Oliver is inhuman, and it feels like someone has ripped his still beating heart from his chest. He can’t think; he can only act.

 

He’s at her side before he realizes that he’s moved, and he catches her just before she hits the ground. He holds her in his arms, lowering her down gently. It takes him a long time to realize that he’s even speaking, and when he does all he hears is “no” whispered over and over.

 

“Oliver-”

 

“Don’t talk,” he begs her, taking off his suit jacket. “Save your energy.”

 

She nods slightly, and he places his jacket against her wound and presses it down hard. She groans in pain, and Oliver’s breath hitches in his throat.

 

“You’re going to be fine,” he tells her firmly. His hands are trembling as he fumbles in his pants pocket for his phone, and when he finds it he dials 911 with one shaking hand.

 

“911, what’s your emergency?”

 

“I need an ambulance at Star City Park. My wife’s been stabbed.”

 

“Can you tell us where you are, sir?”

 

Oliver looks off into the distance, and his eyes land on the fountain he remembers from last time: the fountain he’d paid to have erected years ago after the quake, in memory of those who had died. Etched into the stone around the base are the names of the 503 people lost that night. Somewhere on that fountain, the name Tommy Merlyn is carved twice: once by the builders, and once by Oliver himself.

 

“I’m near the memorial fountain,” he answers, his voice shaking at the memory of his lost friend. He looks back down at Felicity, and while she looks tired her eyes are clear. She’s still with him…for now. “You have to hurry, please.”

 

“Help is on the way, sir. I’m going to need you to-”

 

Oliver hangs up, dropping the phone next to him. He puts both hands back on his jacket and presses down on her wound, doing his best to staunch the flow of blood.

 

“They’ll never get here in time.”

 

Every muscle in Oliver’s body clenches tight at the sound of Slade’s voice. He’d actually forgotten the man was still there.

 

Slade steps closer and smiles down at him.

 

“I’ve been waiting years for this day, kid. _Years_. I spent years in that cell on Lian Yu just _dreaming_ of this day.”

 

Oliver tears his eyes away from Felicity, and he can practically feel his blood start to boil in his veins.

 

“And do you want to hear the best part?”

 

Oliver glares at him, and his hands ball into fists against Felicity’s stomach. A rage unlike any he’s ever felt bubbles just beneath the surface of his skin.

 

“It’s even better than I imagined it would be. Because I didn’t just take the woman you love from you. I took away your _child_.”

 

It’s the mention of the baby that pushes Oliver over the edge. The baby Felicity was going to tell him about tonight. The baby he didn’t know he had, the baby he didn’t think hecould _ever_ have…the baby who will never get a chance at life. Not just any baby, but _his_ baby. Felicity’s baby.

 

 _Their_ baby.

 

Oliver’s on his feet faster than he’s ever moved, and he launches himself at Slade with a scream. He shoves his shoulder into Slade’s stomach and tackles him to the ground. His fists connect with Slade’s face, more times than he can count. Hatred and despair fuel his rage, and he couldn’t stop himself even if wanted to.

 

He doesn’t relent. He punches the man with all he’s worth, and when Slade reaches down and grabs a gun out of his belt, Oliver’s ready for him. He wrenches the gun from Slade’s grasp and throws it behind him. It must land on the grass somewhere, but Oliver doesn’t care. He’s going to personally see to it that Slade Wilson never lives to see another day.

 

“I’m going to kill you,” Oliver growls at him, and he reaches down and wraps his hands around his throat. “And I don’t need a gun, or a sword. I’m going to kill you with my bare hands.”

 

Oliver starts to choke him, and Slade wheezes out a few words that Oliver can barely hear.

 

“What…about…your…Felicity?”

 

And that’s all it takes.

 

Her name.

 

Just her name.

 

Oliver loosens his grip on Slade and looks over his shoulder.

 

Felicity is there, gazing at him in fear. She has one hand pressed tight against his jacket, stopping the flow of her own blood. Her other arm lies next to her on the ground, reaching out to him.

 

A sob rips out of Oliver’s throat against his will, and he turns back to Slade just in time to feel a burst of pain shoot through his thigh. He looks down to find that Slade’s stabbed a dagger into his left leg, and while Oliver’s delirious with shock and pain, Slade rips out the dagger and shoves Oliver off of him.

 

Oliver rolls onto the ground, but before he can get up again Slade’s there, straddling his legs and wrapping his hands around his throat. And just like that it’s Oliver who’s left struggling for air.

 

Slade may not have the Mirakuru in his blood anymore, but he’s still strong, fueled by nearly a decade of pent up rage and hatred for Oliver Queen. Oliver attempts to buck Slade off, but pain shoots up his left leg and he chokes on a scream. His hands scrabble at Slade’s, wrapped tightly around his neck.

 

Oliver’s vision starts to blur. He thinks of Felicity, dying on the ground near him, and adrenaline courses through him. He pries at Slade’s fingers, and he almost has him, but then Slade lets go of Oliver’s neck with one hand and digs it into the cut on Oliver’s thigh. Oliver howls in pain, and when Slade wraps his now blood stained hand back around Oliver’s neck, he laughs maliciously.

 

“I didn’t want it to end this way, you know. I wanted to watch the woman you love die in your arms.”

 

And just as Oliver’s vision starts to fade, he sees something that turns his world upside down.

 

Felicity shoves the barrel of the abandoned gun at Slade Wilson’s temple.

 

“Not gonna happen,” she whispers.

 

And she pulls the trigger.

 

* * *

 

Oliver’s not sure how long he lies on the ground, Slade Wilson’s dead body a heavy weight on top of him. Time seems to stand still.

 

But then the weight is lifted, and Oliver gasps for air, panting heavily. He looks over just as Felicity gives a huge shove and, with a cry of pain, pushes Slade off of him.

 

The feel of her body collapsing on top of his, the feel of her blood wet against his skin, brings everything crashing back down.

 

“No,” he whimpers, and he sits up and puts his hands on her shoulders. He lifts her up carefully, turns her over, and cradles her against his chest. He reaches out with one hand and finds that he can just reach his jacket, which she must have dropped when she grabbed the gun. He presses it hard against her stomach once more, and when he sees just how much blood she’s lost he wants to scream. Her head falls against his shoulder, and Oliver can’t stop the tears from falling down his cheeks.

 

“Felicity.”

 

It’s a plea, a prayer, and a promise all rolled into one.

 

She looks up at him and smiles.

 

“You’re okay,” she whispers.

 

Oliver smiles down at her.

 

“I am. Thanks to _you_.”

 

Felicity frowns and looks away from him. When she finally looks back, she’s crying.

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t…I’ve never killed anyone before, Oliver.”

 

 ** _That’s_** _what she’s worried about?_ Oliver wonders to himself.

 

But then…it’s Felicity. _Of course_ that’s what she’s worried about.

 

“I know, I know. Felicity, it’s okay,” he reassures her, but she shakes her head.

 

“I had to save you. I couldn’t-”

 

She gasps, and then coughs…and blood starts to trickle slowly from the corners of her mouth.

 

“Stop talking,” Oliver begs her, pulling her tighter against him. He hears Slade’s voice in his head.

 

_When her body lies at your feet..._

Oliver shakes his head, trying desperately to rid himself of that awful voice. Slade’s dead. He won’t hurt them ever again.

 

“Please, Felicity. Save your strength. The ambulance is coming. You’re going to be okay.”

 

“Oliver,” she groans, and she looks up at him imploringly, as though she needs him to understand something. “We both know…I’m not-”

 

“Stop it!” Oliver orders her, and the voice he uses sounds so much like his old Arrow voice that is scares him. He calms himself down a bit and continues. “Stop it right now. Don’t you _dare_ do that to me. Not after everything we’ve been through. After everything you’ve _done_.”

 

“Oliver,” she responds, her voice trembling, and Oliver shakes his head at her. He presses his right hand harder against her stomach, and his hand slips, wet with her blood.

 

… _her blood wet against your skin..._

“You’re _strong_ , Felicity. Stronger than anyone I know. You’re a _fighter_.” He takes his left hand from where it rests in her lap and grips her hand tightly. “And you are NOT. DONE. _FIGHTING_.”

 

She smiles warmly up at him, her tears mixing with the blood on her face.

 

He squeezes her hand, and she squeezes his back, but her grip feels weak.

 

_…then you will know how I feel._

He can’t lose her. God help him, he can’t lose her.

 

And then he hears it: sirens, off in the distance.

 

“You hear that? They’re _coming_ ,” he reassures her. “They’re coming, and you are going to be fine. You are going to _fight_.”

 

“For _you_.” She whispers it so quietly he can barely hear her, but he does.

 

He bends down and kisses her gently on the forehead, trying to give her strength.

 

“For me,” he agrees. “And for _us._ ”

 

“I’ll…I’ll try,” she answers, and she takes a deep breath, as though trying to steady herself.

 

“Promise me?” Oliver asks her quietly, needing to hear the words.

 

She smiles up at him and whispers, “I promise.”

 

“That’s my girl,” Oliver responds with a smile of his own.

 

He squeezes her hand again, and she squeezes back, but she’s weaker now, and Oliver needs to stay strong for her, no matter how badly he feels like he’s falling to pieces.

 

They sit in silence, waiting as the sounds of the sirens draw closer. At some point Oliver begins to rock her ever so gently. At some point, he begins to quietly hum their song.

 

_My girl (my girl, my girl), talkin’ ‘bout my girl (my girl)._

 

Suddenly, without warning, Felicity gasps harshly, and blood starts to pour from her mouth in earnest.

 

“Oliver?” Felicity calls his name, and she sounds small, and terrified, and Oliver would swear that _he_ was the one to take a sword through the stomach because nothing in his life has ever hurt as much as this does.

 

“I’m here. I’m here, Felicity,” he answers quickly, heart seizing in his chest. “You’re not alone.”

 

“Oliver, I….”

 

He knows what’s coming, and he can’t handle it.

 

“No,” he begs her. “Please, no.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers.

 

“No. Felicity, please. Oh, god.” Oliver pulls her closer to his chest, wraps his arms around her, and buries his face against her neck.

 

He can see the lights on top of the ambulance. They’re here. She’s going to be okay. She has to be.

 

“Felicity?”

 

She doesn’t answer him. He reaches down desperately and squeezes her hand.

 

She doesn’t squeeze back.

 

“Please, no. Felicity, stay with me. Felicity…I love you. Please.”

 

The ambulance’s headlights bathe them in a bright glow, and Oliver pulls his head away from her, needing to look into her eyes again.

 

But her eyes are closed.

 

Oliver buries his face into her hair and kisses the top of head.

 

“Please don’t leave me,” he sobs quietly.

 

And as the EMTs climb out of the ambulance and make their way toward him, Oliver screams.

 

* * *

 

The ride to the hospital is a blur. At the time he is only vaguely aware of what’s happening, as though he’s living in a dream.

 

He knows that the police try to ask him questions about what happened, about the man who lies dead on the ground, but that they stop when they realize he won’t be able to answer any questions in his state.

 

He knows that he calls Thea as he climbs into the ambulance; that he tells her what happened and begs her to get Diggle and meet him at the hospital.

 

He knows that one of the EMTs wants to treat his leg, but that he backs off when Oliver threatens to kill him if he doesn’t save her first.

 

He knows Felicity flatlines in the ambulance….

 

And he knows that they bring her back.

 

When they get to the hospital, the EMTs wheel her into the ER. Oliver tries to go in, but of course they won’t let him, and so Oliver stands in the hallway, feeling helpless and broken as they work to save her.

 

The same EMT tries to take him away to look at his leg, which is bleeding profusely, but Oliver’s numb to everything but _her._ The man finally gives up, and he leaves Oliver alone to watch and pray.

 

He stands in the hallway, heart racing, muscles clenching, body trembling. He’s breathing heavily, and the hallway seems to spin faster around him as more nurses rush into the ER. The sight of her lying on the table, pale and still and covered in so much blood makes him feel sick. He reels away suddenly and empties the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

 

When he finally finds the strength to stand again, he hears it for the second time that night; the worst sound he’s ever heard in his life.

 

The flatline.

 

He hears someone shout, “She’s crashing!” Hears someone else yell, “We’re losing her!” Hears someone else say, “Come on, sweetheart. You can fight this.”

 

Oliver feels his legs start to give out, and he leans back against the wall behind him, willing himself to stay standing even as the ground threatens to break apart under his feet.

 

This is just like Thea; exactly the same. It’s like he’s living his own worst nightmare all over again.

 

Only this time, there’s no more Lazarus Pit. Oliver had seen to it last year that the Lazarus Pit was destroyed. No one man should have been allowed access to so much power, and he’d seen to it that no one ever would again.

 

But it’s okay. She’s not going to need the Lazarus Pit. Felicity’s going to _live_. Because she’s fighter, because she’s strong…and because he asked her to.

 

Oliver watches as they try to shock her heart back to life, and he hears their voices as if from far away

 

 _Clear_.

 

Her body jerks up on the table.

 

_No pulse._

_Try again!_

_Clear!_

Her body jerks again.

 

The flatline continues.

 

Oliver shakes his head.

 

_Again!_

_Clear!_

_Come on, honey, come back to us!_

The flatline continues.

 

“No.”

 

Oliver doesn’t even recognize the sound of his own voice.

 

_Once more!_

_Doctor, she’s gone._

_I said once more!_

_Clear!_

Her body jerks on the table.

 

She falls back down.

 

The flatline continues.

 

Oliver presses his palms hard against his eyes, shaking his head.

 

He doesn’t look up again until the doctor calls it.

 

“Time of death: 10:41 PM.”

 

* * *

 

Oliver loses all track of time. One minute he’s standing in the hallway, staring at the woman he loves lying dead on a table. The next, he’s in the waiting room, and he’s trashing it.

 

Chairs are ripped from the floor, magazines are fluttering, and tables are flying. He can’t feel anything. Not the pain in his leg, or the hole in his chest, or the tears on his cheeks.

 

He doesn’t even notice when the security guards come. He doesn’t notice when Diggle shows up and asks them to wait. He doesn’t notice his sister enter the room and carefully approach him.

 

The only image left for him, forever etched into his mind, is the sight of his Felicity lying dead in a pool of her own blood, killed because a mad man made him a promise ten years ago.

 

Her voice is what finally brings him down. The voice he’s known since he was 10 years old.

 

“Ollie?”

 

Oliver drops the chair he’s holding, but he doesn’t turn around.

 

“Ollie, look at me.”

 

He turns, and he does, and when his eyes meet Thea’s he says the two words that he knows will change him forever.

 

_“She’s gone.”_

 

He falls to the floor, and she catches him, and she holds him close as he sobs.

 

* * *

 

_“Oliver…Oliver?”_

 

_He hears a voice calling him from far away._

_“Oliver, wake up!”_

_It…it sounds like her, but it can’t be._

_She’s gone._

 

**_“OLIVER!”_ **

 

Oliver wakes with a scream, sitting up in bed. As he sits there covered in sweat, panting and trembling, he feels a pair of soft hands shaking him, and as he glances around the room he recognizes it as his bedroom.

 

 _Their_ bedroom.

 

But….

 

And then he looks over, and he sees her.

 

His Felicity.

 

Alive and whole and looking at him with concern.

 

She puts her hands on his face and cups it gently. “Oliver, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

 

He looks at her, tears dried on his face.

 

And finally, he remembers: she didn’t die that day.

 

She _had_ flatlined in the hospital, but she was strong, and she had put up a fight…and the doctors had saved her.

 

Felicity had saved herself.

 

But then…there was something else, too….

 

“See?” Felicity continues, and she lifts up her shirt, takes both of his hands, and moves them to her stomach. “ _We’re_ okay.”

 

Oliver runs his hands over her swollen stomach… and he feels his daughter kick. 

 

They had lost their baby that night, but after multiple surgeries, months of therapy, and years of slow healing and quiet prayers, they’d been blessed with another.

 

Oliver bends down and kisses the swell of her belly, then gently rests his head on top of it. He can hear the baby’s heartbeat through her skin, quick and steady.

 

“It was just a dream, Oliver. Everything’s okay. I promise.”

 

Oliver wraps his arms around Felicity’s back, but he keeps his head on her stomach, and he smiles against her, reveling in the feel of his little girl, his Ava, kicking away. She’s a fighter already. Just like her Daddy…and just like her Mommy.

 

Felicity wraps one arm around him and runs the other through his hair. She kisses the top of his head, whispers “I love you,” and holds him tight when he starts to cry.

 

_…the end…_

**Author's Note:**

> I always hesitate when it comes to the warnings for near-death stories, because part of me wants to warn for character death even when it’s only PERCEIVED character death, and part of me doesn’t want to warn because it spoils the story. I decided not to warn since Felicity doesn't actually die.
> 
> I’ve written some dark stuff before, but this one’s way up there. I actually got chills at a few points while writing this one, and tears were definitely shed, particularly upon editing. This one’s been on my mind for weeks now, ever since I rewatched 2x15 “The Promise.” I knew I wanted to touch on Slade returning and fulfilling his promise, because after all that build up I just KNOW he will return to the show at some point to try and keep it. I put it aside for a little while though, because I wasn’t sure how to start it. But then a few days ago I wrote that missing moment from 2x23, and when I sat down to try writing this one again it flowed easily.
> 
> I also knew I wanted to have Felicity kill Slade, because as much as I love her and her innocence when it comes to killing, it was an idea I knew I could have fun playing with. In my mind, she has nightmares about this night sometimes, too, but on the whole she accepts what she did because he was going to kill Oliver and so there was really no choice to make. And let's be real here: Slade stabbed her in the chest. killed her unborn child, and nearly killed her; bastard had it coming.
> 
> I’ve also, for awhile now, wanted to write something about Oliver and Felicity dealing with losing a baby, and since I’m not sure I could ever stomach writing something as hard as an actual miscarriage, I decided it would work well in this story and be easier to write in this context. Of course I had to fix it by giving them an actual baby, and I just couldn’t get the image of Oliver resting his head on Felicity’s baby bump out of my head.
> 
> FYI, the baby’s name “Ava” means “life.” :) Her full name, which I couldn’t quite make fit into the last section the way I’d originally wanted, is Ava Tamsin Queen, “Tamsin” being a feminine form of “Tommy.” Also, Oliver and Felicity’s song is “My Girl” by The Temptations. Look it up if you don’t know it. It just fits for them, especially in light of things like, “you will always be my girl, Felicity.” I picked it out in a previous fic as their special song, and it’s stuck as my headcanon now.
> 
> I feel like I returned to my roots with this one. I’ve been writing a lot of fluff recently, though you won’t hear me complaining about it. Angst is where I live, though, and when I throw in the hurt/comfort there’s no stopping me. That being said, I’ve never actually killed a character off, but that doesn’t mean I won’t someday.
> 
> Long author’s note is long, sorry, but this one was a doozy for me.
> 
> Hope you liked it!


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